


The Perfect Bitch

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Play Puppy Dean Winchester, Aphrodisiacs, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Breeding Bench, Butt Plugs, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins, Coming Untouched, Consensual Somnophilia, Dean is the Novak Family Bicycle, Dirty Talk, Dom Drop, Dom Endverse Castiel, Double Penetration, Gags, Gangbang, Incest, Jealousy, Manhandling, Multi, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Sloppy Seconds, Sub Dean Winchester, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: The Novak cousins are having a family reunion, and Dean is the main attraction.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePornFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePornFairy/gifts).



> ...I'm not sorry...
> 
> Also...  
> Cas is endverse Castiel  
> Q-ee is Empty Castiel (Qstiel, if you will)  
> God is Godstiel  
> And the rest are who they are named as.
> 
> First chapter is Dean PoV.  
> Second chapter (hopefully posting tomorrow?) is endverse Cas PoV.

Hands seized Dean, grabbing his wrists, his ankles, his waist, his head. Someone - probably "his" Cas, if he could claim any of the men as more his own than any other - wrapped a blindfold over his eyes, knotted it so roughly and sloppily that it tore at locks of his hair. Dean was too heavy and muscular for any one partner to manhandle him, but for the seven Novaks - brothers and cousins - intent on claiming him, it was simplicity to haul him onto the bench. They wrench his limbs into position. Manacles fastened around his wrists and ankles with ominous clanks. Panic, ridiculous since he'd consented to this today and a dozen or more similar times in the past - set his heart pattering.

"Calm, pet," muttered Cas' voice in his ear, the raspy twang marking it as "his" Cas, Cas rather than Castiel or Q-ee or any of the others. 

Fuck the ancestor who made Castiel a family name.

_ No, not fucking the ancestors...I'm most definitely fucking the descendants. _

Hands swept down Dean's back, clawed at his bare skin, twisted his nipples, tugged his balls, pushed a lubricant tube into his ass. He'd have been overwhelmed if not for the single, identifiable hand petting across his brow, over the fabric of the blindfold, and down the bridge of his nose.

"We'll take care of you," Cas promised, and, remarkably, Dean  _ believed _ . He nuzzled forward, straining toward the warmth of the Cas before him even as he flinched from rough touches and bruising grips that positioned him on the breeding bench. His arms were bound, his knees spread, his ass up and exposed. The rough wood of the bench abraded his belly, his elbows, his knees and calves. Some jerk - probably Q-ee - skimmed a nail, taunting and tickling, over the arch of Dean's foot, laughing dark and mean when Dean flinched and whimpered.

A gentle slap under his chin snapped his mouth shut, knocking his teeth together. 

"Behave," Cas scolded. "You take what we give you, bitch."

The word was an instant balm, a perfect reminder of who - of  _ what _ \- he was. With a sigh, tension drained from Dean's back and ease tingled down his limbs. His awareness expanded. Cool metal bound him. Harsh and soft touches played an elusive, enticing counterpoint over his sensitive skin. Thick lube slicked his insides and beaded down his thighs. Two of the Novak's - Steve and Emmanuel, he thought - played odds and evens over who would get their turn with him first.

"That's better," murmured Cas. "If you can't behave, you won't get anything - you'll have to weather this heat alone. None of us want that."

Dean barely restrained himself from shaking his head. 

He wasn't a man.

A butt plug jammed into his ass, the hair of the attached dog tail brushing his thighs and tickling his balls. 

He was the Novak's good boy, good and ready bitch, and he was about to go into heat.

Wiggling as best he could against his restraints, Dean replied as a dog would, his tail wagging, the attached plug rubbing his insides inadequately.

"Open," commanded Cas, pressing a thumb to Dean's lips. Obedient, well-trained, Dean obeyed, dropping his jaw, lolling his tongue out. "Good boy." Anticipation settled heavy in Dean's gut. They'd done this with groups of two or three of the Novaks, but never with the entire family at once. The Novak reunion offered a unique opportunity. His Cas was always there, and Q-ee lived locally as well, but Steve and Emmanuel had come from Chicago, and the Castiel that insisted Dean call him God during scenes was visiting from Texas, and the twins were in from San Francisco. They were all there, together, for the first time since Dean and Cas had started...whatever the fuck they were doing. That called for a celebration. Family bonding. With Dean as the main entree, the centerpiece, the willing hole they'd all share. He shivered and whimpered eager anticipation. The cousins and brothers that come together...come together, or something.

The moment stretched out in anxious, endless seconds. Dean curled his butt in and down, ignoring the smack to one ass cheek urging him to stillness so he could tuck his tail between his legs. What was the delay? His tongue dried. His thighs ached. His skin tingled. His thoughts spun. His eyes blinked against the coarse fabric of his blindfold, but he saw only pinpricks of light amidst deep shadow.

_ Stop thinking.  _

He could swear he heard the tick-tock of a clock, a jerk of a Novak humming the Jeopardy theme. 

_ I'm not Dean.  _

Waiting was the worst.

_ I'm a nameless bitch,  _ their _ nameless bitch, and I'm about to need everything they can give me. _

No, the burn that would incinerate him once Cas finally, finally anointed his tongue with the medicine that would induce "heat"...that was the actual worst, would stay awful until his owners fucked him hard and long.

A shudder rocked Dean from head to toe, dug the bindings into him, shivered hot and cold over his skin.

He couldn't fricken  _ wait _ .

Liquid, hot and bitter, diffused over his palate; he didn't need the encouragement of Cas' hand on his jaw hinge to close his mouth, didn't need the thumb massaging his throat to swallow. The taste was vile, only worth experiencing because of how it would make him feel...except Dean felt nothing.

_ No, no no no, why aren't I more horny? Why aren't I desperate? Why am I still Dean instead of a deranged, mindless bitch? _

Tears pooled in Dean's eyes.

_ Because it didn't work. _

The warmth of Cas' presence before him vanished. The tantalizing touches to his body went away. The sounds of the Novaks talking silenced. Dean might have been alone in the world save for that maddening, endless ticking, his disappointment as repulsive as the useless, disgusting flavor clogging his senses.

_ It didn't work, and they're displeased, and they're not going to touch me.  _

His swallowed again. Maybe he hadn't taken enough aphrodisiac. Maybe Cas would give him more.

_ Don't they know I need this? _

His stomach felt empty, his being empty, unsatisfied, so desperate yet so neglected.

_ But I won't get this, won't get anything, no touch, no sex, because no matter how hard I try I'm never a good enough bitch for my masters', never enough… _

Dean struggled to quash his doubts. He wanted to be enough. He had to be enough. The aphrodisiac took time. They must still want him. They must help him. Their absence grew heavier, more awful, as crushing as stones crushing his back, as constraining as the harsh metal and wood trapping his body, as inadequate as the toy scarce filling his ass. 

_ Where are they? _

Heat, eagerness, desperation, intensified in his belly, his gut, thickened his dick.

_ Don't they know I need this? _

The bitterness faded from his awareness as his focus shifted down, out, seeking any sign that he wasn't abandoned. He was  _ empty _ and it was  _ wretched. _

_ Don't they know I need them? _

The plug was far too small, his dick much too thick, his body infinitely too hot. The room had been cold, he thought, but now the goosebumps pimpling his skin were from the heat, the lack of touch, the need for touch. A wave of sensation - Dean couldn't say if it was desperation, or starvation, or fever - set his head spinning. The spots of light bright against his blindfold swirled, distended, streaked, dizzying him.

_ Please _ .

The thought was so loud that for a terrifying moment he feared he'd spoken aloud. That would the worst, utter disobedience, a guarantee of incurring the punishment of being left alone, bound, untouched, untouchable, unable to even satisfy himself as he incinerated with need. No one scolded, no one spanked, no one reprimanded, and Dean dared to breathe.

He'd stayed silent.

And soon…

...maybe…

... _ please...oh, please... _

There was warmth, more intense than that coursing through him, to his left. With a whimper and a shimmy, he hoisted his ass invitingly. His cock bumped the board supporting his belly. His tail brushed his legs. His nails scraped splinters from his bench. His plug shifted and teased inadequately, so inadequately.

_ When will we start? _

Maybe there was no one to his left.

_ Don't they want me? _

Maybe there was no one in the room.

_ Won't they fuck me? _

Maybe they'd already exacted his punishment, abandoning him.

_ When will the aphrodisiac take effect? _

The room was far too hot - fucking  _ sultry _ .

_ When will they touch me? _

His body was far too neglected.

_ I'm ready - can't these assholes see I'm ready? _

Dean shimmied his ass suggestively. The plug wiggled; bliss jolted through him, tingled through his fingers...his paws?...pooled like fucking lava in his stomach.

_ Oh, that's good… _

Experimentally, Dean rocked his hips and the plug rocked with him. It wasn't enough sensation, wasn't enough stimulation, nothing would be or could be enough, but anything was better than nothing and if his masters, his owners, his alphas, wouldn't give him what he needed, he'd seize it himself. Back, and back, and back, he moved, humping air, fucking himself meagerly on the plug, mouth open for pants that dried his tongue and never brought enough air to dispel his disorientation and desperation.

_ More, more, more, more, more-- _

A slap rattled him, reverberated through him, and he froze, heaving for air.

"I think he's ready," chuckled Castiel behind him, and he didn't give a  _ fuck _ which one, so long as whoever it was put his fricken money where his mouth was and gave Dean what he needed.

Cas  _ thought _ Dean was ready? Fuck that, he was  _ so fucking ready _ . He bounced back, hefting his ass, tail swaying and wagging, plug shifting and stretching him. A rivulet of lube, damp and chill as ice, ran down his leg. Laughter answered his movements and he snarled, a growl rolling in his throat.

"Stop teasing him," rumbled Cas, close enough that Dean could smell the patchouli wafting from him. How had he missed that before? He inhaled, desperate for more of the scent, humping back harder. He needed...needed...fuck, he was so hot he couldn't believe that sweat wasn't streaming from his forehead.

_ But pup's don't sweat, they-- _

He panted, tongue lapping the air before him as he longed for a taste of musky skin. Someone laughed again, then the bench shifted, the wood creaking with strain, and weight leaned on Dean's thighs. Fabric -  _ wish it was fur _ \- brushed his skin. The plug ripped from his ass and Dean gasped, whimpered, waited, waited, but...nothing.

_ Please...please... _

He swayed back and brushed hot, smooth flesh.

A dick, it had to be.

His alpha's dick. 

_ Please, please, please... _

Every mental plea found expression as whines that caught in his throat. He strained forward, strained back, bumping the cock every time, clenching at air.

"I said, stop teasing him," Cas snapped. Dean flinched and stilled. He hadn't meant to tease whoever was behind him, hadn't meant to--

"You're no fun," grumbled...Q-ee, it had to be. Memories that seemed weirdly distant and disembodied suggested similar instances in the past, of taunting and reprimands, of Cas domming even the other doms in the scene, so damn hot, but Dean could focus on nothing save the dick lined up against his crack, so close and yet so far.

"If you really think we're no fun, you're welcome to leave," suggested Cas.

_ NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, you have to let him fuck me, you have to fuck me, please please please please… _

"Shh, sweet little bitch," Cas murmured, close against his ear, cupping his chin. Dean whimpered and snuffled against Cas' neck. "You'll get what you need, I swear it, as long as you behave." Raising his voice, he added, "Now, Q, or your turn is forfeit."

Q-ee grumbled and drew away so abruptly Dean yelped distress, bucking against his restraints. Cas' fingers tensed against his jaw and a hard smack slammed him against the bench. Panting, trembling, he stilled and waited.

"Better behave," grumbled Q-ee. "Always forget what a pain in the ass you are."

_ Please be a pain in my ass, please... _

Desperate to appease, to provide, Dean spread his thighs, rolled to present his ass, and showed off everything he had to offer. 

Q-ee chuckled. "But if you insist..."

Nothing happened. 

A protest formed growly and guttural in Dean's throat.

Dick plunged, hard and thick, into Dean's ass. 

The protest broke off with a coughing choke, a yowl dying in his chest, as Q-ee drew back and thrust again, fucking him hard, unrelenting, thrust upon thrust upon thrust, every one driving Dean higher. Tears smeared his cheeks and dampened his blindfold. Spit dripped from his mouth, coated his chin. As powerful as Q-ee's thrusts were, they weren't enough. Dean burned, craving sex, starving for it, and he needed more, more,  _ more _ . Everytime Q-ee drew back, Dean rocked with him, trying to keep cock inside his aching body. Nothing was more important than--

"Behave," scolded Q-ee, smacking his ass cheek. 

Stinging spread like sparks through Dean’s body. He wanted to behave, longed to obey, but his body was beyond control. He needed urgently and he couldn't stop himself moving though he cried and yelped, couldn't stop even though Q-ee slapped him with every shift and involuntary twitch. Dean's dick ached between his legs, throbbed with every thrust, throbbed with every smack, pain and pleasure scarce distinguishable when Dean's body screamed for sex, for touch, for stimulation.

"Naughty bitch," said Q-ee, breathless, relentless, hits growing more stinging, thrusts getting faster and more forceful. "You've got a lot of learn - thought you had him tamed, Cassie - slut this lively is wasted on your wasted ass--"

_ No, but I'm Cas' good bitch, not yours. I am... _

"Better let me take him in hand. I'll bring him back to you so broken in, so obedient, and--"

"Ignore him," Cas whispered in Dean's ear. "You're mine, and I appreciate your willingness to share that sweet little heiny. You're so good, Dean, so good for me - for us..."

Cas voice settled Dean's spirit, drowned out Q-ee's filthy litany. Agonizing bliss swirled through him, release essential, unattainable, so far away. His arms strained against his manacles as though orgasm was something tangible he could grab, a mirage flickering at the edges of his blanked vision. Pressure clenched his gut, twisted his throat, thudded in his ears. He felt like his eyes were bulging, like his dick was swollen, but his orgasm was an eternity away and Q-ee was fucking him, fucking him, and Cas was praising him, and--

A hard thrust slammed into Dean's thighs, ground his pelvis and hips into the unforgiving wood of the bench. With the lube already so thick in his channel, Dean felt Q-ee's come spurting into him, swelling him, distending him, and he whimpered, straining his head forward, found meager solace rubbing his filthy nose and cheek against Cas' neck.

"Good dog." 

Even Q-ee's praise felt cruel, accompanied by him pulling his hips back to leave Dean deprived and empty, followed by a full-hand smack that took Dean across the ass cheeks and over his sensitive, exposed, stretched hole. Dean yelped, teeth gnashing at nothing, nipping his own cheek so hard he tasted blood, and clenched. Come and lube leaked down his crack.

"Shut up and get out of my way," grumbled another of the Novaks.

_ Yes, hurry... _

Laughter and the scuffles of horseplay spoke to the nonchalance of those waiting their turns, oblivious or indifferent to the urgency of the whines abrading Dean's throat raw.

_...please get in me, get in me... _

"Fine, fine, it's all you, Stevie..."

_ No one gives a fuck who’s next, just-- _

A gasp turned into a croak as Dean's wish was, mercifully, fulfilled, dick filling him to the hilt. Steve wasn't so large as Q-ee; Dean whimpered, clenched around what felt a vast emptiness scarce plugged, and struggled to keep from sobbing. Cas' hand curled around his head, petted through his hair, massaged behind his ears.

"Relax and take it," Cas murmured. "Got so much more for you, little bitch, be patient, be good, I’ve got you - we’ve got you, and..."

Cas’ words were a litany that kept Dean from complete emotional collapse as Steve took his sweet time, moving slow, rocking in and out, leaking breathy moans into the room. Dean trembled, freezing and sweltering by turns, dick dribbling but his climax eluding him. His body felt slick, his muscles tense yet useless. He twisted to headbutt Cas' hand, shifting hips unable to compel Steve to greater urgency. So soft, so gentle, so  _ wrong _ , so far from what Dean needed. The reprieve after Q-ee’s abuse and before whatever delights awaited made him nauseous. If Steve recognized Dean's dissatisfaction, he said nothing, administered no blissful punishment. He placed a hand on the small of Dean's back and maintained the same tortuous pace no matter the sounds Dean leaked, no matter how Dean quaked, no matter how Dean clenched around him. Q-ee had been rough, the stimulation overwhelming, but that had nothing on this mild, inadequate torture.

Thrust, and thrust, and thrust, Steve went on and on, only to finally come with an eager rock of his hips and a replete sigh. Dean mouthed his desperation against Cas' neck -  _ please please please please _ \- risking punishment, but he had to have more, had to express that need, had to make Cas understand…

"Castiel..." Cas said. Something incomprehensible was said in reply, and Cas sighed. "Fine, since you insist,  _ God _ , you fricken asshole, you're up." His tone screamed that his eyes were rolling, even to Dean in his distracted state.

"But I was next!" someone protested.

"Well, change of plans. God's next, then the twins, and then you can have your turn."

"But that sucks!"

"Suck whatever you want," snapped Cas, "but--"

Dean's awareness, his hearing, obliterated as he was mounted. A body settled heavy against his back, fingers teased his rim, knees dug into his calves, and then a dick was lined up, thrust in, and Dean howled. Dean had scened with God but never had sex - deities didn't deign to fuck any pup they met, and Cas' pot-addled leavings?  _ Hell  _ no. Dean had dared to hope he’d be rough, but he’d had no fricken idea.

Cas' jackass cousin was a fucking whirlwind, literally, figuratively, grinding down into Dean unrelentingly.

Whereas Steve's indifference to Dean's pleasure had left Dean adrift and desperate, God's indifference was glorious. Not bothering with thrusts, God humped up into Dean's body relentlessly, so hard that the breeding bench feet screeched over the fllor as it bumped forward. Zipper teeth bit into Dean's ass. Chiseled hip bones ground into his back. God's palms were heavy on Dean's shoulders, nails digging into the sensitive divot of his clavicle, weight so great atop Dean that he struggled to breathe. The world spun, blurry view of the blindfold swirling and smudging. Dean might have been floating away, might have been tearing to shreds, if not for Cas' voice in his ear, Cas' fingers dishevelling sweaty strands of hair over Dean's forehead. He mouthed at Cas' neck, moans scarce canine, teeth nipping at flesh and lip and tongue indiscriminately. God's presence was all-encompassing, divine, but even basking in that glory didn't bring Dean to the pinnacle. He floated, semi-disembodied, yet was still utterly bound to his flesh by the pressure within him, the climax he'd never once managed without a touch to his dick. Cas' words grew meaningless. Even their soothing tone failed to provide succor succor. He didn't need praise. He needed to fricken  _ come _ . He rode up against God as God pushed down against him.

"Bad dog," snarled God, pulling back. Dean's back arched, seeking the withdrawing cock, restrains digging into his wrists and ankles, and a knee slammed into his perineum and balls. Dean shrieked, collapsing as though deflated against the bench.

"You get what I give you," God hissed. "You  _ take  _ nothing, or you  _ get  _ nothing."

"You heard him, Dean - good bitches keep still for their alphas." Cas' reprimand hurt almost as badly as the knee to the genitals, his disappointment like being drenched in ice. God's laugh was as vicious as his resumed thrusts, cruel and aggressive. Worst of all, Cas moved away. Dean choked on distressed whines, but a hand on his chin silenced him. "And God," Cas turned the nickname into a mockery, "if you hurt my splendid little bitch again, I will end you. Understand?"

Dean expected another disdainful laugh, yet the stillness lengthened, Dean tightened his every muscle to keep from squirming, and finally God said, "yeah. I understand."

As God started moving again, there was no settling, no calmness, no equilibrium. Dean's focus shifted from sensation to sensation, abruptly, disorientingly. His ass was stretched and slick, sloshing with come and cock, his prostate under assault. His dick was weighty and achingly hard, throbbing pain in time to his racing heart beat. His lungs screamed for more air, but he couldn't lift his own weight and God's well enough to get oxygen. His stomach - his ears - his eyes - his feet - his elbows - every part of him was a bundle of overstimulation competing for his attention. He sobbed, unsated, unsatisfiable, and tried cling to his one directive - be still - and the one promise Cas had made - if Dean was a good bitch, open and receptive and slick and still, then Cas would ultimately give Dean what he needed.

Dean wasn't sure what he needed , but he and Cas had been to hell and back together, and he'd believe in his dom, his master, his owner,  _ his  _ Castiel, to the grave.

Euphoria came with distress and pain and bliss and confusion. The pressure in him ebbed and flowed, parts of him seeming distended and swollen while others seemed to shrivel and shrink from neglect. God's weight, his cock, the sensation he billowed through Dean's body with even the slightest brush, became increasingly disconnected from any reality of solid touches, rough thrusts, or grunted noises. There might have been more hands on him, a dozen hands, teeth biting him, tongues licking him, dicks fucking him, fingers carding his hair, for all he knew.

"Stop."

Dean howled.

"Muzzle," Cas demanded. 

Dean had no idea how to obey - he couldn't fetch his muzzle, couldn't move, couldn't think. He strained his mouth and nose forward but Cas moved away more quickly than Dean could follow, and a dick yet shifted and bulged and rolled slowly within him. Panting, dripping - tears, spit, mucus, sweat, lube, come, Dean couldn't tell any longer - Dean tried to be open, be ready, be  _ good _ . Fingers seized his face and fitted pungent leather around his chin. Thick belt shoved between his teeth. 

Dean whimpered.

_ What did I do wrong? Why am I being punished? _ He gnashed at the gag, mouth somehow simultaneously wet and dry, and snuffled forward into the leather dog muzzle gag.

"I'm sorry," murmured Cas, sadness incongruous, incomprehensible.

_ He's sad cause I was bad. _

"But you're way too close to biting through your tongue, and with what's coming..."

_...I wasn't bad? _

_ What's coming? _

Who  _ is coming? _

_ Who  _ isn't  _ coming? _

_ Me, maybe, if I'm not good, if I can't...but I have to, please Cas, I have to... _

He rubbed his muzzle against Cas neck, submissive, obedient, ready, trying desperately to communicate all he couldn't say, could never have said as man or as pup, as sub or as partner.

"Alright - go."

And God went.

And Dean was gone.

Cas held him, cradled him, while he was fucked senseless. When God finally came after a fricken lifetime of being used and filled and stretched, Dean sobbed, replete yet beyond desperate for his own orgasm. This was the most they'd ever done, the longest Dean had been used without a soft touch and a climax of his own. It was too much, but Cas believed in him and Dean was a good bitch, had to be such a good bitch.

His hoarse throat burned with every whimper and whine, his teeth grinding at the bit parting them. Weight lifted from him, then returned, heavy on his back, solid around his backside, massive on his legs. He was empty - please let him not be empty, let him be filled, let him be fucked, let him be used, and when he'd done for  _ all  _ his splendid alphas, let him finally, finally come.

"Got it, Cassie?"

"Got it, Jimmy."

The words were as meaningless as the weight, but Dean shuddered relief against his restraints because there was dick against his pucker, thickness pressing into him, filling him, filling him...

...and freezing.

Dean whimpered, trembled, cried. 

"Relax," Cas suggested, sounding anything but relaxed. He rubbed a thumb over the sensitive spot behind Dean's ear. "Just relax."

Fingers fumbled along Dean's crack, pushed into his hole, tugged at his rim. The weight smothering him shifting, grinding sensitive flesh against wood, straining overtaxed joints and muscles. Jimmy and Castiel spoke, a soft buzz that meant nothing compared to the urgency with which Dean needed the cock inside him to move. Fingers pulled, tugged, stretched, pain punctuating Dean's desperation, and he needed, needed, needed, needed more, needed now, and…

Thickness pushed into him.

Heavy breathing gasped in his ear, his own, Cas', the twins', as inch by agonizing inch the twins resolved the question of who would get him next by taking him  _ together _ . Fuck, but they were huge, cocks lined up and sliding through the lubricant and come slick and gooey within him. Only the muzzle kept Dean from gaping in awe, his open eyes bulging and sightless regardless of his blindfold. Two dicks hurt, agony tearing him apart, splitting him in two, utter bliss colliding through the pressure tormenting him and spiraling something astonishing and indescribable through him.

Cas pet him, spoke, but Dean heard nothing. He had finally found focus - there was nothing beyond the immensity of being stuffed, nothing but the weight of two matching sets of hips coming to rest against his thighs and ass, n.o.t.h.i.n.g. but being stuffed oh. so. full.

And then the twins moved.

Like a hurricane, ecstasy and rapture swirled through him, swept him away. A bark, a yelp, a yowl, a scream, caught in his throat and, choking, crying, dissolving, Dean could swear he literally felt his brains, his insides, his essence, spurting from him as he finally, utterly, came.

And then there was nothing. 

Dean was nothing. 

No...he was one thing. 

He was Cas'  _ perfect  _ bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean shuddered and went limp, head drooping heavy on Cas' shoulder. Startled, Cas eased back, trying to access his beautiful pet's state. 

"Hold up," he ordered his cousins. With a pained groan, Jimmy went still, Castiel panting with effort beside him. Dean whimpered when they went still; Cas ruffled his hair, shifted the sodden blindfold for a view of his face. Dean's cheeks were flushed and sweaty, his eyes open and vacant. Concern deepening, Cas moved and...

...and Dean nuzzle against him, urgent sound catching in his throat...

...and a flash of white caught his eye.

Semen splashed down, expanding a puddle beneath Dean on the wooden floor. Not his relative's come - that was thick and sticky, drying and flaking off Dean's thighs, perineum, and balls, but so far not on the floor.

Dean had come.

Dean had  _ come _ .

Cas swallowed, arousal fuzzing his vision. He was so hard, wanted a chance at Dean's ass so badly...originally, he'd intended to have a go, to mount his bitch and breed, but neither of them had anticipated how powerfully Dean would react to being dosed with aphrodisiac, how gone he'd be with so many Novaks fucking him.

But the proof was in the pudding.

No, the proof was globbed on the floor in a slowly spreading puddle.

Dean. Had. Come.

Instinct demanded that Cas take a step back from the scene, force them all to take a step back, and check in on Dean. 

_ If we stop now the scene will be over. _

Dean rubbed against him again, blinked without bringing his eyes into focus, whimpered, and shifted his hips hard enough that Castiel bit off a pained "fuck."

_ This isn’t what we planned...and judging by his reaction...it’s not what Dean wants… _

_...but if we stopped, I could fuck him, care for him, keep him to myself… _

_...stupid jackoff that I am... _

"Keep going," said Cas.

"Are you sure?" asked Jimmy. Cas looked up, caught his eye, glared until Jimmy shied away.

"Did I fucking stutter?" Cas snarled, directing the anger he felt at himself outward.

"No,  _ sir _ ," Castiel said, and the twins started to move.

Dean twitched, whimpered, then went limp once more, weight supported by the bench, head supported by Cas' shoulder. Where skin touched skin, Cas could feel Dean shivering. Another spurt of come dribbled to the floor, Dean's half-flaccid dick swaying as the twins moved in tandem, thrusting into Dean's body. Squelches and air bursts like farts accompanied every movement, but no one laughed at the absurdity. Emmanuel stood on the side lines, frozen with a stunned expression and his dick in his hand. God and Q-ee watched, clinical, judging, silent. Steve adjusted his package.

All of them wanted a turn, wanted another turn if they’d already taken one.

But fucking hell, Cas wanted to come - wanted to come  _ in  _ his good boy. His dick was painfully hard between his legs, arousal a buzz in his ear, a distraction from trying to dom and care for Dean.

Dean headbutted him again, clumsy, smearing Cas with some bizarre, alluring, gross mixture of bodily fluids.

Fucking. Hell.

Fuck what Cas wanted. 

He was right where Dean needed him.

But fuck did it stink to watch another man - two other men, who looked fricken _ just like him _ \- get off while using his pet.

Castiel went rigid, expression slack as he came, Jimmy pointing and laughing as he climaxed as well, white spurting out between their dicks and streaming to the floor. Dean's puddle merged with theirs, a growing mess, Dean’s body far too stuffed to fit all the liquids the Novaks produced.

Dean whimpered through an aftershock.

At least Dean was happy. 

That was enough.

That would have to be enough.

Emmanuel found his senses, shoved a dazed Castiel aside, ignored Jimmy as the twin flopped aside, and thrust into Dean's hole. Dean barely reacted, preening against Cas' hand, swelling with huge inhales. Emmanuel was fast, rough, each thrust forcing liquid from Dean, and Dean took it all.

Fuck, that was hot.

Pre-come dampened Cas' boxers. His cheeks were flushed, his sweat mixing with Dean's. Dean grunted, leaked soft sounds as his eyes leaked tears. Dean’s dick was thickening again, and Cas longed to touch him, to suck on him, to do anything but sit and observe and comfort. He  _ wanted _ .

_ Fuck, I'm selfish. Just, stop. Sit here. Be enough. Literally  _ anyone  _ may fuck Dean - provided he consents, which he always does, and I allow it, which I usually do - but no one else can bring him security, safety, ease, when he's tense and unhappy. _

_ A wet hole is just a wet hole...this...  _ He combed through Dean's hair, savored how Dean weakly lifted his head toward the touch. . _..this, only I can do - this only we can do together. _

Closing his eyes, Cas tried to lose himself as he had when he'd subbed in the past, tried to lose himself as he knew Dean was lost. Dean was hot against him, tender, gloriously messy, needy and sweet and soft and obedient.

_ Precious...the most important person, pet, thing in my life...my Dean... _

Dean went rigid and limp, sharp as a whip crack when Emmanuel came within him. His tension jolted Cas, pulled him from his reverie, but he forced his eyes closed, forced his focus to Dean, used his other senses to tell what was going on.

The bench creaked as weight shifted from it. 

Feet scuffled across the floor. 

Clothing rustled. 

Liquid spurted with a wet sound. 

Dean moaned, exhausted and pitiful and beautiful. 

Cas echoed the sound, swaying back and forth as Dean's body was fucked into and rocked, rocked, rocked.

"Lucky I'm getting tired," grumbled...Q-ee, Cas thought. "Can’t give you the punishment you deserve. So I’ll just fuck you good, then I'm out." The bench squeaked and creaked as Q-ee did so, Dean leaking helpless, troubled, troubling noises, and Cas was fricken  _ useless _ . 

"So good." Cas had said that before, said it repeatedly, but he was exhausted and horny and totally out of creative dirty talk. "My lovely pet, such a good bitch in heat."

_ Selfish of me be tired. All I've done is sit here. Even Q has more excuse to be fatigued than I do. _

Dean's sounds took on a distressed edge, and Cas struggled to focus. "Beautiful, obedient..." His mind went blank of further praise. He carded through Dean's hair, mentally flailing for synonyms. "...so beautiful..."

_ So useless. _

Q-ee actually sounded appreciative when he breathed soft arousal through his orgasm. 

God didn't, ignoring Dean's pained shudders and muzzle-muffled cries as he bore down roughly. 

Cas wanted to scold him. His cousin was a dick and getting closer to being permanently disinvited from future orgies, but nothing he did violated the ground rules Cas had laid out. Dean didn't signal his safe word, so Cas let it go. He reached up, embraced Dean's shoulders, massaged tense muscles, licked and nipped at Dean's ear as his vocabulary failed him. 

_ As I fail Dean. I can't even fuck him through his heat. This is... _

God shoved into Dean hard, against Dean smotheringly, and swore through his orgasm. 

_ Ridiculous. Futile. Useless. _

Steve took his place, slow and steady and boring. 

_ Lonely. _

Castiel took another turn, then Jimmy. Or maybe it was Jimmy then Castiel. They all looked so near-identical that other family members mixed them all up, but even Cas struggled to tell the twins apart.

_ Bizarrely, profoundly lonely considering how many people are in the room and that I'm theoretically in charge of this scene. _

Dean went silent, only his slight shifts closer to Cas evidence that he hadn't passed out. One by one, the Novaks took their turns, took additional turns, retired to bed with appreciative mutters or confident declarations of their sexual prowess. Cas ignored them; it was either that or grow bitter over what they'd enjoyed but he'd been denied. He knew his response was absurd, and that he couldn't repress his inappropriate response was infuriating. This had been his idea, a scene Dean had begged for, and Cas risked screwing it up because he was jealous. How pathetic was that?

The room went quiet.

The bench went still.

Dean trembled.

Cas opened his eyes.

The six other Novaks were gone. Dean was slack against his restraints. His back, ass and thighs were painted shiny, shimmering clear and red and white, flecks of blood amidst the lube and come. Cas rose, swayed, and nearly collapsed. Pins and needles numbed his legs, and he put a hand on Dean's shoulder to steady himself. Dean didn’t react. The muzzle gag covered Dean's mouth and chin, the blindfold drooped around his nose without covering his closed eyes. Dean was flushed, skin patchy red and white, dirty with sweat and dust, scratches bright and raised, teeth marks on his shoulders. His once-styled hair hung in wet tendrils about his face and neck. Angry purple rings marked where his manacles had dug into his ankles and wrists.

He was, hands down, easily, incomparably, the most astonishing, stunning, handsome, gorgeous creature Cas had ever beheld.

Oh. 

There was his vocabulary.

"Come on, precious," he murmured, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss over the nape of Dean's neck. Salty sweat diffused through his mouth, and he painted a soft lick next to the kiss, savoring the flavor. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Reaching down, Cas undid the clamps binding Dean in place. Dean's only acknowledgement was to flop against the bench, limp, arms dangling from the bench. One leg tumbled to the side, revealing an abraded knee that must ache like hell. Tottering, Cas made his careful way to the kitchen, where he'd laid out supplies in anticipation of this moment.

_ Thank you, past me, for your foresight… _

A cornucopia awaited him: food, washcloths, drink, bandages, everything they needed, everything they might need. Helpless, he could only stare. Dean was so exhausted, needed so much support to begin his recovery process, and Cas was tired, limping,thighs bumping his hard cock with every step. Where the fuck should he even begin?

A soft moan echoed over-loud from the other room, hoarse and reedy. 

_...just...begin, dipshit. _

Water, first.

Cas flipped on the faucet and filled a cup, leaving the tap on so the water would get warm. He returned, lifted the cup...and realized that Dean still had the muzzle on. Fucking sequences. He set the water down, unbuckled the gag, eased it free of Dean's face. It took a tug to get the bit free from between Dean's teeth; he tossed it aside to clean in the morning and held the cup to Dean's lips. 

Dean didn't move.

"Come on, sweet boy," Cas murmured, coaxing Dean with a thumb on the bottom of his chin. Dean stirred, blinked gunk from his eyes, and lapped at the wide-mouthed cup. 

_ What Dean and I share...it’s different. _

"Good dog."

_ It's not just sex. _

Dean whimpered, licked up more, swallowed. 

_ None of the others do this for him. _

Cas used the time that Dean spent drinking assessing what else needed to be done. 

_ He doesn't  _ want  _ any of the others to do this for him. _

Dean needed to be cleaned, to have the worst scrapes treated, to be brought to bed and massaged to ease his aches. 

_ This is only for us...only for him... _

The others had fucked Dean through his aphrodisiac-induced heat, had "taken care" of Dean...but this was  _ really  _ taking care of sweet, generous, caring Dean.

_...only for him...and only for me. _

Aftercare was a ritual, as essential to Cas as it was to Dean. He brought Dean to drink more, retrieved a bucket of hot water from the kitchen, returned to Dean with soaked washcloths. Even working gently as he could, Dean whimpered and flinched as Cas cleansed sex from Dean's thighs, his ass, his back. The terrycloth came away filthy, diffusing gunk through the clean bucket, and Cas cleaned him again, again, again, until Dean's skin sheened fresh, the smell of come had faded, and the mottled patches of Dean's skin had evened to his usual tanned tone. 

Cas was  _ still  _ hard.

But that didn't matter.

Only when Dean was dry and hydrated did Cas hoist him up, roll him off the bench and onto a set of cushions he'd laid out on the floor. Dean groaned as he struck the padding, curling in on himself, struggling to focus through bleary eyes. 

"Help," he croaked.

Something inside Cas broke.

It might have been his heart.

Once upon a time, Cas had sworn he had no heart. 

God, Dean transformed Cas more and more every day, and though the changes terrified him, the most amazing part was that Cas accepted them, welcomed them, thanked Dean for the privilege.

Anything that helped him be more what Dean wanted, needed...loved...

Love?

_ Stupid ass word to think, to use, to even consider.  _

Cas had real problems, like figuring out how the fuck he was going to get Dean to their bedroom.

Dean's vision focused, his eyes met Cas', and he managed a weak smile. "Heya, Cas." He even managed a feeble, adorable wave.  _ How are you real? _ "That was awesome." Mouth suddenly dry, Cas could only nod agreement. Dean flopped back, grinning. "I hurt everywhere."

_ I have to take care of him...am incapable of  _ not  _ caring for him... _

Squatting, Cas slipped an arm under the bend of Dean's knees, another beneath his shoulder, and with a groan Cas straightened and hefted.

Dean was fucking  _ heavy _ .

And Cas was carrying him.

Step by careful step, arms trembling with strain, Cas bore his precious to their room. The other Novaks were gone, back to their respective accommodations for the reunion, and having the house to themselves was...blissful.

_ Yeah, that's obviously what's blissful. _

He was swaying, arms an agony of effort, by the time he reached the bed. He meant to set Dean down lightly, but it was in all fairness more of a drop. Dean whimpered, curled over, sighed back to ease.

"On your back, Dean."

"No," snapped Dean petulantly.

"I need to take care of your joints."

"No! Sleep. Now." 

Dean wrapped the blanket around himself and held up a corner in invitation. Protests, disagreement, commands, sprang to Cas lips, only to fall away as Dean's smile went gentle.

"Snuggle?"

Cas laughed helplessly. "I never could deny you anything," he said as he climbed in beside Dean, curled around him, big spoon to Dean's little.

"Really?" asked Dean, turning to shoot him a side-eyed look. "Nothing?"

"Go to sleep, Dean," Cas managed just enough of a scolding note that Dean rolled his eyes and slumped into the covers. 

Slowly, slowly, Cas' heart rate calmed, his body relaxed, his thoughts grew quiet. Dean was snug against him, breaths rumbling and deep and content, even with sleep.

Cas was  _ still. fricken.  _ hard.

But it was okay. 

It was...

Dean wiggled back against him.

...it was fine...

Dean shimmied closer.

...it was mostly fine...

Dean rubbed, rubbed, rubbed.

...fuck, that felt good.

"Dean?" he murmured. Dean must be asleep, unaware of what he did, certainly not interested...

...not now anyway...

...and Cas had finally come to accept that, even embrace that...

"Please?" Dean breathed.

Fumbling between them, Cas tugged his sweat pants and boxers aside, freeing his dick. Dean sighed replete happiness at the first brush of cock against his skin, hoisting a leg barely enough to accommodate Cas’ entry. 

"How are you so perfect?" Cas breathed.

A smack of lips suggested Dean meant to reply - a vehement denial, knowing Dean - but Cas cut him off, lining up and sliding oh-so-easily into Dean’s fucked-out body. Dean was hot and slick, gorgeous and perfect, stretched and so, so easy to fill to the hilt of cock. "So perfect for me."

Inside Dean felt... _ incredible _ .

Cas was too tired to move much, too worried about Dean to chance hard thrusts, so he wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, slid in easily, pulled out barely, nudged back in. Dean rocked back - or maybe that was just the bed matching Dean's tempo - and pleasure...bliss...adoration...lit sparks behind Cas' eyes. There was nothing better than this,  _ nothing  _ better than what they shared. Clasping Dean tight, Cas felt exactly the moment when Dean slipped truly to sleep, lulled by the gentle sway of their bodies coming together.

_ This is how he perceives me, as safe and kind and tender. _

Dean murmured, shifted, eased closer, took Cas deeper.

_ So much like how I perceive him. _

Dean's rim clenched around him, such perfect tightness, such slick friction, fuck, so good…

...so beyond good...

_ Wow. _

With a soft sigh, Cas came, eyelids already drooping with incipient sleep.

_ What a day. _

_ What a night. _

_ I can't wait til we can do this again. _

Dean shifted, cupped Cas' hand in his own, pressed his ass back harder against Cas' fading erection, and sighed into deeper sleep.

_ And who am I kidding? He's asleep. At least now, I can admit... _

"I love you, Dean."

"Cas..." There wasn't a trace of consciousness in Dean's voice, but that he replied at all was...it was enough.

_ Dean is more than enough. Dean is my everything. _

Sated in every way, in love...loved, dare he hope?...Cas slipped to sleep, Dean encompassed in his embrace, dick still wedged snug between Dean's cheeks, barely in his hole.

Perfect.


End file.
